


Hiraeth

by melodious_madness (dismalzelenka)



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Anti-Imperial, Casual Sex, F/M, Family Death - Past, Ralof-Hadvar Rivalry, Revenge, Sisters, Stormcloak Positive, Stormcloaks, Theme? What Theme?, another fucking wip, did u mean, honestly i have no idea yet, now with smut, the in-between moments, yer damn right it is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-07 07:48:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15903978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dismalzelenka/pseuds/melodious_madness
Summary: When an Imperial ambush kills her father, forces her sister into hiding, and sends her careening toward an untimely execution, Adrien decides she's done giving the Empire the benefit of the doubt.All she wants is to join the Stormcloaks, kick the Imperials out of her homeland, and find a quiet place where she and her younger sister can rebuild their lives.It's such a shame when destiny has other plans.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _hiraeth: (n) a homesickness for a home you can't return to, or that never was._

“Do you remember that thing Da used to tell us?” Sophie asked. The fire crackled merrily - too merrily - and Adrien's mood only soured further. 

“Fool questions beget fool tales?” she groused at her sister as she stabbed at the rabbit roasting over the fire. 

Sophie seemed, as usual, unfazed by her surliness. “About the stars,” she said, idly twirling tendrils of frost between her fingers. “Do you really think Sovngarde lies beyond clouds of stardust? Over there, maybe?” She pointed, long, delicate fingers toward a swirl of green aurora suspended somewhere toward the west. A wisp of ice floated from her fingertips and disappeared into the crisp autumn air. 

Adrien didn't answer. She didn't particularly want to think about their father right now. 

“I'm glad you made it,” Sophie said quietly. Her exuberance faded, her gaze cast somber towards the fire. “Out of Helgen, I mean.”

“Did you really think I would fall at the hands of a few Imperial milk drinkers?” Adrien scoffed. 

Truthfully, she didn't particularly want to think about Helgen, either. The memory of wood pressed uncomfortably against her neck, a gauntleted hand rough on her back, the smell of iron and blood and death on all sides. The shameful nightmares that plagued her sleep. The things Sophie couldn't ever know. 

How could she bear to reveal to her sister just how narrowly she'd escaped death on that mountain? No, better to let Sophie believe in her big sister's heroism for the few precious moments of innocence she had left. Sometimes, merciful ignorance felt like the only gift she had left to give.

Sophie giggled. “You make it all sound so easy,” she said dreamily. “I don't even know how you lift that axe with one hand.” 

“Not all of us can fling fire, mitt kjære.” 

“True.” Sophie curled up on the ground next to the fire with a determined expression on her face. “The next Imperial patrol that crosses our paths...I'll be ready next time, stóra. I won't let you down again.”

“You're talking foolishness. Bastards caught us off guard, is all.” Adrien struggled to keep her voice lighthearted.  _ She's too young for this. _ Her heart clenched. Fifteen winters, and she was trudging through the Skyrim wilderness thrown into a miserable war that had fallen right at their doorstep. “Da didn't die at the hands of those murdering Imperial thugs so his daughters could wallow in self pity. You  _ never  _ let me down, alright?”

Talos guide her. So much for lighthearted. 

Sophie let a stream of flame dance lazily from one hand into the fire. “We'll make it together,” she said sleepily. 

Adrien pulled the rabbit from the fire and stared at the glowing coals until they had all burned to dim, grey husks of ash. She turned her sister's words over and over in her head with a heavy heart. 

_ I really fucking hope so.  _

 


	2. Chapter 2

“Adrien! Thank Talos you made it.”

Ralof’s grin could light up a moonless night, she caught herself thinking. His arms wrapped her into a bear hug, and she let herself relax against his chest. He smelled like wood smoke, smithing oil, and sweat: comforting scents, scents that reminded her of home, of her father's forge. Of a time  _ before _ . 

“Of course I made it, you big oaf,” she mumbled into his tunic. “How could I miss this town? Even the Greybeards could hear Hof shouting at his mill workers.” 

His laughter rumbled against her face. “Nothing like facing the chopping block together to make you miss a person, eh?”

She shoved at him lightly with a feigned scowl, but the smile broke out unbidden on her face. “I'm glad you made it too,” she admitted. “You plan on greeting Ulfric the same way, then?” she teased. 

He pulled her back into his arms and planted an affectionate kiss on top of her head. “I think I missed you more.”

“One night together after meeting on a prison cart and you're already as sentimental as a priestess of Mara,” she snorted. “What am I to do with you, Ralof?” 

“Marry me and birth my babes, of course.”

She burst into laughter. “One of these days, some poor lass is going to take you seriously.”

He grinned down at her, brilliant blue eyes twinkling in the midday sun. “If she's as fierce as you and half as good looking, I can't imagine that would be a bad thing.”


	3. Chapter 3

“You.” 

Hadvar glared at her as she approached Riverwood, one hand resting lightly on his sword. Ralof tightened his grip around her waist with one arm and reached for the battleaxe slung across his back with the other. “Tread lightly, brother,” he warned. 

Adrien stepped forward between them and shot scathing glances at them both. “We're not here to start a fight, Hadvar. I loathe that uniform you wear, but I owe you a life debt after Helgen, so consider it an honor bound courtesy that I haven't yet put an arrow through your eye.”

“And so you take up with this traitor?” Hadvar tilted his head at Ralof and kept his hand on his sword. “Oh, yes, we've heard the tales. I'm sure half of Skyrim has heard the two of you in your tents by now.”

“Leave her alone!” Sophie came bounding up behind them, hands wreathed in flame. “Your people tried to kill her! You're lucky she didn't take your head off when she had a chance--”

“Sophie! Enough!” Adrien said firmly.”Ralof, stay your axe. Hadvar, who I choose to warm my bedroll at night is none of your business. I'm exhausted, and all I want right now is to sit down somewhere warm and drink myself into a stupor, so stand down or I swear on my ancestors I will jam my bow so far up your rear you'll be spitting splinters for a week. Is everyone understood on where we all stand?” 

Hadvar stared at her, mouth slightly agape at her outburst. Ralof merely chuckled, the arm around her waist slipping down to give her an affectionate squeeze on the rear. “Spoken like a true Nord woman, eh?” 

“Ass,” she grumbled as she stepped around Hadvar with an exasperated sigh. “I'll be getting that drink now.” 

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> have some smoot. *thumbs up*

Adrien could hear Sophie chattering away with Gerdur downstairs through the open stairway on the other side of the loft. Exhaustion threaded through her limbs like little chains as she unlaced her boots, pulled her shirt over her head, and unbound her breasts with a weary sigh before tossing everything into a neat pile at the foot of the bed. 

“Sophie,” she heard Ralof say, his heavy foot falls creaking on the lower steps. “Have you seen your sister?” 

“Might be upstairs, why?” 

“No reason in particular,” Ralof said simply as he continued up the stairs. 

Adrien bent to remove her trousers and heard him stop in his tracks at the top of the steps. She'd never made much of a habit of wearing smallclothes, and the ones she'd been wearing in Helgen were definitely in need of a good soaking.  _ Or burning, _ she reflected. That would work, too. 

Ralof trailed a rough hand along her neck and down her shoulder as he guided her back up, brushing rough fingers against her skin. “You're going to be the death of me, woman,” he whispered into her ear as his teeth grazed the soft skin of her neck. 

She reached behind her and tangled her fingers into the front of his tunic. “Take this off,” she murmured as she turned around, lips brushing the stubble on his cheek. 

_ I need you.  _ The words caught in her throat where she choked them into silence, focusing her thoughts instead on untying his breeches while he all but threw the shirt over his head. 

She'd been with him enough by now to feel a certain familiarity in the way she dragged a hand through the coarse blonde hair covering his chest, the way he trailed a hand between her legs and teased at her slit while they kissed, his lips stealing her breath away with the heat of his mouth pressed into hers. She backed into the bed and let herself fall back onto the straw mattress, let her body land among the furs as he crawled on top of her. 

_I need_ _you._ He began to let his mouth wander down her chest, across the flat planes of her stomach, but she shook her head and hauled him back up across her body, opening her lips to the searing heat of his mouth where their tongues teased little and claimed much more. This was not a night for the tender caresses of a lover's eager hands. 

He was all smiles and laughter and cheerful disposition in the light of day, but he was also painfully, vulnerably  _ honest _ when he fucked, and the more they twined into each other, the more it became clear what it was they needed from each other this time. It was in the little gestures, teasing  fingertips suddenly tightening painfully around her wrists, and then he was kissing her the way a suffocating man would draw desperate, ragged breaths while thanking the gods for their mercy. 

Were they lovers? Maybe, by some definitions, but mostly she needed him to help her pretend, one night at a time, that there hadn't been a war that made them have to grow up so damn fast. 

It was one thing to face death in the heat of battle, but…

A gentle tap on her face interrupted her. “You're working awfully hard to imagine I'm someone else,” Ralof teased. He brushed a stray lock of red hair from her eyes and rolled over so they were both on their sides, facing each other. “There's a storm in that mind of yours. I can feel the thunder rumbling from all the way over here.” 

Right. Of course he would  _ care _ . 

“It's nothing,” Adrien turned and mumbled into the pillow. She tried very hard to ignore the way his beard tickled the small of her back as he lay his head playfully on top of her, his coarse blonde hair splaying out over her skin. This would be so much easier if he were like others she'd been with, men who took and took and didn't give a damn about what she thought. She didn't want feelings; she wanted strong arms pinning her to the bed, a hard cock between her legs fucking that thrice shameful fear of dying out of her head. What kind of Nord was she, anyway? And why did Ralof have to be so gods-damned  _ soft _ ? Why did a part of her -- more of her than she cared to admit -- have to  _ like  _ it? 

“Adrien,” he murmured, moving, his hand finding her cheek again. “You're drifting. Come back to me.” 

“Why does it matter?” she grumbled. The petulant tone that slipped into her voice made her want to disappear under the bed forever. 

He didn't answer the question. No, instead of trying to talk his way through her mood, the stubborn bear of a man pulled her close and enveloped her in those stupidly strong arms, mumbling something stupid no doubt with that stupid, cute mouth of his, and she didn't even particularly care what he was saying, but damn it, she needed those lips back on hers before something inside her exploded. 

“Kiss me, damn it.” She pounded emphatically on his chest with her palm and scowled. 

“There's the dragoness I met in Helgen.”

“Funny, I seem to remember you  _ running  _ from the dragon in Helgen--”

He kissed her again,  _ finally,  _ and this time, she matched his intensity, her fingers winding through his hair as she forced other thoughts out of her mind. She threw a leg over his hips, ground her pelvis into his thigh, muffled her groan against his neck when he pulled her astride him and thrust up into her in one smooth stroke. 

“Ysmir’s beard,” he swore, eyes closing of their own accord, when her tight, wet heat fluttered around his cock. 

“Not Ysmir, and I don't have a beard,” she whispered into his ear, forehead collapsing against his cheek when he thrust again. 

“Silence, woman,” he groaned, pumping in and out of her in earnest now as she struggled to catch her breath. 

“I do have a name, you know.” She nipped at his lip teasingly and rode him harder, milking his cock, fingers gripping the sheets on either side of his head. The bed frame creaked conspicuously, but neither of them really had it in them to care. 

“Adrien,” he whispered, his rough hands settling on the dip of her waist before he slid them lower and grabbed handfuls of her ass. She responded with…something  -- she  _ knew _ she did -- but gods, she was so full, so filthy fucking  _ full _ , and with every roll of his hips this stupid man was fucking the wits straight from her brain. 

And then he'd rolled her over --  _ when?? _ \-- and was pounding into her, cupping her breasts, rolling her nipples between his fingers.  _ Talos _ , his hands were everywhere somehow even as he fucked her senseless into the mattress, edged her toward release with cock, voice, fingertips until she was begging and babbling nonsense with her own hands fisted tightly around the sheets beneath her. 

She came apart eventually. Time didn't really exist anymore, she'd become convinced. Everything in the universe clearly all happened all at once, all the time, but somewhere, somehow, she'd managed to curry enough favor with the gods to have this beautiful man on top of her whisper her praises in her ear while his magnificent cock softened in her cunt, and really, what else could matter in the face of such a gift? 

“You are easily the most beautiful woman I've ever had the honor of taking to bed,” Ralof murmured, blue eyes twinkling as he all but drank in the sight of her. 

“You ruined it, moment over,” she teased, tapping at his shoulder to get him to let her up. He flashed that brilliant smile and planted a row of kisses along her collarbone instead. 

“I am but a simple and honest man.”

She snorted and pushed him over so she could stand, making her way to the pitcher of water on the nightstand. “And I think that dragon addled your head,” she announced, washcloth in hand, as she wiped his spend from between her legs before wringing it out over the chamber pot and throwing it at him. He chuckled as it landed on his chest with a wet splat. 

“And how nurturing! The gods have blessed me indeed with such a lovely wife to be--”

She cut him off with a pillow to the face before lifting the fabric from his mouth and kissing him again. “I think I like you better when you're not talking.”

Sophie's yell from downstairs brought them both to their senses. “Can the two of you take a break long enough for me to drag a bedroll up there and find beeswax for my ears before I go to sleep?  _ Gods _ , you do know there are other people in this house?” 

Ralof chuckled and pulled her back down on the bed, wrapping an arm around her and drawing the furs over their bodies. “Kissed by fire, both of you.”

Adrien mumbled sleepily against his chest. “Well, you're not marrying her, either.”


End file.
